I AM A RUPEE. I am only three years’
old. But I look very soiled and greasy. However, when I left the mint near
Lahore, I was very bright and beautiful. I was packed in a strong wooden box,
with thousands of my brethren, and was sent to the state Bank of Pakistan,
Lahore. I was very proud of the star and the crescent on my face: and the words
Hakoomat-i-Pakistan, on my back. I was given to a young man who had come to the
back. I was given to a young man who had come to the bank to get change for a
ten-rupee note. He looked at me very carefully for several seconds and, then,
he put me into his pocket. One reaching home, he gave me to his younger brother
for learning surah Yasin by heart. He took me to the bazaar and gave me to
confectioner, in return for some sweets. I remained in his safe for a few
minutes. And, then, I went from man to man and shop to shop, every day of my
life. I knew no rest, till I fell into the hands of a beggar. He put me into an
earthen pot and buried me under a tree. That is perhaps, my grave and I have
been living here since long, in the company of over a thousand others of my
kind.
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